


Magic City

by avintagekiss24



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Doggy Style, F/M, Orgasm, Pole Dancing, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Sex, Slow Dancing, Smut, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 12:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintagekiss24/pseuds/avintagekiss24
Summary: It’s Friday night at Magic City. The drinks are a plenty, the smell of money is in the air, and the man you never thought you’d see again just paid for a private dance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was for another challenge. Prompt was stripper/strip club.

You lean into the mirror, puckering your lips as you apply your favorite shade of Stunna lip paint. You rub your lips together, squinting as you check every inch of your flawless makeup before leaning back your seat. Girls move around behind and beside you, all of them mimicking the same movements - changing outfits, primping hair, applying makeup. The bass of the music thumps against the wall as the catcalls and whistles of drunk, stupid men occasionally float to the back room.   


“Yo, Candy,” Johnny, the club owner calls, poking his head around the corner.   


A few girls throw their hands to their chests, covering their bare breasts as they begin to berate him, “What did we say, Johnny? Don’t fucking come back here! Pervert!”

“Shut up.” He spits, clicking his teeth as he turns his attention back to you, “You up next, mama.”

You nod, not even taking your eyes off of your reflection in the vanity mirror. You toss your new, long, stark straight hair over your shoulders before rolling your head in a slow circle. It’s Friday night at Magic City. The DJ is on fire, the drinks are flowing, and the men are  _ rowdy _ . Since the blip ended, your clientele is at an all time high. You are easily bringing home anywhere between one to two thousand dollars a shift; and that’s a  _ light  _ night.

You slide your feet into your 8” ankle boots and tie them up as the DJ’s voice sounds over the music. Loud cheers and claps for the previous dancer swallow the music entirely as you stand and run your hands down your black, cupless corset. Time to make some money.   


You move toward the door and slip your hand into Johnny’s so he can help you up the staircase, “Next up,” the DJ says into the mic as he switches to your song, “It’s your favorite piece of candaaayyyyyyy.”

Dangerous Woman starts over the speakers just as you step on the stage. The lights are down as you grab onto the pole and spin around it slowly. The light rise slowly, the whistles and hoots of the men growing louder as you finally come into view as Ariana starts to croon. You close your eyes and let the music seep into your bones as you start to move, grabbing the pole and holding your weight as you effortlessly lift your legs into the air.

A smile creeps onto your face as you spread your legs, exposing your barely covered pussy to the room full of men. Green bills of all denominations start to float through the air, landing like feathers at your feet as you move. The whooping and hollering has died away - every man in the room in awe of you. You love that, you always have; the  _ effect  _ you have on them. For the other girls, the men are rowdy and rough - reaching out, grabbing and groping even though they aren’t supposed to. But once you take the stage, they don’t even want to blink. They just want to watch you.   


You take a few steps away from the gold pole and lunge for it, hooking your ankle around it above your head as you spin around slowly. You gasp mid-spin, grabbing the pole with your hands as you slip slightly when your eyes link with an all too familiar pair of blues. You drop to your feet and hug the pole as your lips part. You glance to your left again, and again find that pair of eyes on you, blinking at you slowly as a smirk spreads on his lips.   


You snap your head to the right and clear your throat, collecting your thoughts quickly. You slide your hands down your body as you sway your hips back and forth and down to your knees. You lay out on the stage and roll your head toward the first row of men, bestowing a slow, sultry smile. Money starts to rain down on you from above, and shoved into the band of your panties before you sit up on all fours.

You pop your ass up and down, smiling and biting your bottom lip as you twerk. You catch those eyes again - those piercing, deep blues, and you nearly lose your breath. All of the memories between the two of you rush back instantly. The first time he ambled into Magic City, your first private dance for him, the first time you invited him back to your apartment…

_ Stop it. _   


You curse inwardly as you shake your head and try to get back into your groove. You move your hands back to your corset and start pulling at the strings, letting the leather and lace fall away from you to reveal the rest of your body. Loud whistles overtake the music in the room as your flatten your back on the pole and slide down to the floor, hooking your fingers into the sides of your thong to pull them down slightly.   


You find his eyes for a third time.   


They bare into you, almost as if he’s staring right through you. Your lips part as your eyes drop to the floor. You saunter toward the edge of the stage and prop your leg on the small square table in front of you. Your mind races as someone slips a fifty into the thin band of your thong. You can’t believe he’s back.   


_ What some are calling the blip, is now officially over. Five years after the snap, millions of people reappeared out of thin air days ago, all thanks to the Avengers. Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Dr. Bruce Banner aka The Hulk, and many more of our favorite heroes battled Thanos and restored the world back to its original state, giving hundreds of millions of people a second chance.   
_

_ But war, often comes with casualties. Former Russian Spy, turned Avenger Natasha Romanoff, and billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark both gave their lives in the fight to stop Thanos. America’s first super soldier, Captain Steven Grant Rogers is still MIA. Newly crowned Captain America Sam Wilson maintains that he is unaware of Rogers’ whereabouts, and the government is remaining tight-lipped about the disappearance. In a formal statement released this morning, the Chief of Staff of the United States Army stated that Rogers is considered inactive, and will soon be declared dead.   
_

_ Next up, we have your weather forecast… _

You remember the newscast as if it were yesterday. You remember the parades, the moments of silence at sporting events, the memorials that played on TV for him. It pissed you off. It pissed you off because you  _ knew  _ better. He wasn’t missing. He was with  _ her _ . The small, round, black and white picture in the compass that he never left home without, haunts you, even to this very day. He chose  _ her _ \- and it pissed you off.   


Anger flashes through you as you roll your hips in the face of an eager customer. He shoves a twenty into your panties before you move back toward the stage, your lips pressed in a hard line. You glance over your shoulder, connecting your dark eyes with his and let out a deep breath, having to literally stop yourself from sneering. The music starts to fade, and you plaster a smile on your face as a thunderous applause erupts for you. You wave seductively and make a brisk exit as the stage hands start sweeping the stage to collect your earnings.   


Once backstage, you plop down at your station and bury your face in your hands.  _ Bastard.  _ You tuck your hair behind your ears roughly before lifting your eyes back to mirror. You are not going to let him ruin your night. There’s money to make. He doesn’t matter - just like you don’t matter to him.

You take your time changing into your White Fee Bodysuit, knowing that requests for a private dance with you are climbing by the minute. You look yourself over, your breasts on full display in the sheer material, before heading back to the main floor to grab a quick drink.   


The bartender smiles at you, grabbing one of the small, rectangular glasses and pouring a quick vodka and cranberry. He slides it in your direction and you lift it in your dainty fingers, bringing it to your lips to sip it slowly.

“Room 2, doll.” Johnny announces in your ear as he slides up beside you, “He’s booked you for the night.”

“Oooh,” You shimmy your shoulders, downing your drink, “Big spender, huh?”

Johnny winks at you, “He must have been a victim of the snap, poor prick. Probably ain’t had any pussy since he got back.”

“Where’s my money?” You ask, setting your glass on the bar and quirking your eyebrow toward the ceiling.

“You know the drill, baby. You deliver the goods first, cash later.”

You roll your eyes but push away from the bar, scanning the crowd as you move. You push through the heavy velvet curtain and smile seductively at the man sitting on the black leather couch in front of you. A Yankees cap is pulled low over his eyes as he sits straight up, his hands on his thighs. He’s dressed simply, wearing a dark blue jacket that covers a plain white t shirt, and jeans, not at all giving the impression that he’s capable of dropping three thousand dollars for a night with you.   


An ice bucket with a full bottle of Dom Perignon sits on the small table in the corner of the room, two long stemmed flutes sitting on either side of it. You move over to him and sit in his lap, swinging your legs over his as you slide your hand over his shoulder, “Hi baby.” You coo, tilting your head and biting your bottom lip, “I’m Candy. Why don’t you take that hat off so I can see that handsome face, hmm?”

He chuckles, but obliges you, grabbing the bill of his hat and removing it. You roll your eyes heavily as his face comes into view and push your hands in his chest to try and stand. He tightens his grip on you, “Just wait a second.”

You purse your lips as you stare back at him, unenthused, “Let me go.” You say sternly.

You only have to ask once. He drops his hands and you stand, heading straight for the curtain, “I already paid for you.” He calls, causing you to stop. You turn on your heel and cross your hands over you chest, “That’s not very nice.”

“I’ll get you a refund.”

“Baby-”

“I am  _ not  _ your baby.” You say coldly, ice dripping from your words.   


He drops his head again, nodding slowly, “Okay.” He takes a breath before lifting his eyes back to yours, sincerity and sorrow flooding through them, “Can I get one last dance then?” You take a deep breath, “You can keep whatever is extra.”

You suck your teeth and send your eyes toward the champagne in the corner as the wheels turn in your head. You should keep walking, leave him high and dry without a second thought like he did you. The business woman in you doesn’t want to show him any sign of weakness - or that he hurt you.  _ Just think about the money. It’s always about the money.   
_

But, you know that’s not true; especially when it comes to him.   


You turn on your heel as the music being piped into the room changes. Blac Youngsta fills the room, Cut Up flooding your ears. You can’t help but smile. It’s perfect. You’re gonna make him regret this. You saunter to the small, round stage in front of the couch and step on it. Steve leans forward, pushing his way to the edge of the couch. You turn and squat down, peering at him over your shoulder. His eyes are wide and hungry as he stares back you and then slowly drags his eyes down your back to your plump, round ass.   


Just like old times.   


You stand and place your hands on your knees, bending slightly as you start to bounce your ass to the beat. You pop your ass and wind your hips as you twerk for him. You snap your head to cut your eyes back at him, biting your lip to heighten your allure. You turn to face him and throw your arm around his neck, pulling his face so close to your toned stomach that his nose brushes against the thin material of your body suit.

You hear him moan as his hands snake up your sides, “God, they don’t have girls like you in the fifties.”

You laugh lightly as your roll your body, “I bet they don’t.”

You push your fingers into his hair, grabbing and pulling before you push his face into your cleavage. You shimmy your shoulders, jiggling your breasts as he nuzzles into you, a long, gravelly groan scratching at his throat. You pull his head away from you and roll your hips into his face, letting his nose brush against your pussy. He takes a breath, taking in a deep whiff of your natural, carnal scent. You feel him shiver - just like old times.   


You drop to your knees and lean forward onto the tips of your fingers. You spread your legs wide as you start to twerk again, pushing your hips and ass back into his face before moving forward away from him again. You feel his finger hook under the thin belt of your body suit, and then the familiar feeling of money scraping along your skin. That’s one thing you always liked about Steve, he was always a great tipper.   


He lets his fingers linger on your brown skin, pushing them along your hips as you move, and then down your thighs. There are only two types of people who you allow to let touch you; deep pockets and Steve Rogers. You always liked the way his fingers felt against your skin. Rough, but always gentle. Firm, but soft. Nobody else could touch you like that.   


You roll over onto your butt and bring your knees toward your chest. You cock your head and smile slowly at him. His eyes are wide, pupils almost blown, the brilliant blue damn near black as he’s filled with lust for you and your body. You let your legs fall open, the thin see through material putting your pretty pussy on full display. He inhales sharply as his eyes drop to your sex. He bites his lip and reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away quickly, watching as he recoils with a smirk on his face.   


“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He offers.

You return his smirk as you sit up and crawl toward him. You reach for him, prompting him to grab your hand and help you into his lap. You place your knees on either side of his thighs and rest your hands on his shoulders as you push your breasts into his face again. You sit down into his lap and bite your lip as you feel his hard on through his jeans. You roll your hips into his dick and then slide his dick in between your ass cheeks, groaning slightly. You miss that dick. You didn’t realize just how much until this minute.   


Steve slides his hands up your sides as he glances up at you, “So you  _ do _ miss me.”

“What makes you think that, Captain?”

“I heard you just now.” He says, his voice heavy and full, “You miss this cock, don’t you?”

You take a breath and unconsciously tighten your grip on his shoulder. He chuckles as he drops his hands to your ass for a quick squeeze before jiggling your flesh, “Yeah. You miss Captain’s dick.”

You toss your hair over your shoulder and lean down, grabbing his earlobe into your teeth, “I bet she missed your dick too, hmm? Seventy years is a long time to go without.” You lean back slowly as he cuts his eyes toward you. You smile sweetly.  _ Two can play this game, mother fucker,  _ “I bet that pussy was boring though.”

“Stop.” He says firmly.   


You shrug, tossing your hair over your opposite shoulder, “You said so yourself. They don’t make girls like me in 1950.”

You feel his eyes follow you as you shift your weight and lean back, your body still moving as the song changes, “I thought about you.” He says quietly, watching as you avoid his gaze, “I thought about you every day.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, trying to get back into your zone. When you don’t respond, he leans forward, “I get why you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” You say shortly, “Now stop talking so I can finish this dance.”

You untie the small bow that sits on your hip to loosen your sheer bodysuit. You push at the shoulders with your hands, letting the material fall away from your top half to let your breasts fall free. You’re distraction works. Steve drops his eyes to your dark areolas, your thick nipples budding proudly as the cool air tickles them. He takes two full handfuls of you, squeezing lightly as he groans inwardly. He leans forward and pushes his face into the warmth of your breasts, shaking his head into them as he wraps his arms around your waist.   


You circle your arms around his head as you drop your head to his, burying your nose into his hair. You roll your hips and then dig your hips into his as your fingers slide into his blonde hair again. He tips his head up to yours, his lips parting as he stares up at you. You push your chest into his as you roll your hips into his, biting your lip as you drop your eyes to his.   


He cups your face in his palm, sweeping his thumb across your cheek. His eyes bounce wildly between yours, then dip down to your lips, where they stay. His chest bumps into yours as his breathing deepens. He flicks his eyes back to yours quickly, but focuses back on your painted lips within seconds. He pushes upward, his lips brushing against yours as he tries to kiss you. You pull back at the sudden contact; a gut reaction.   


You stare down at him as his eyes widen slightly. That was the first time you had ever rejected him. His eyes bounce between yours as confusion washes over his face. He’s hurt. It’s takes you aback a little.   


“Wow.” He says after a moment, his hands dropping from your sides.

You clear your throat, suddenly irritated, “What?”

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, never taking his eyes off of you.

You shake your head, “I don’t care Steve.”

“I should have come to see you. I should have told you face to face.” You drop your hands from his shoulders and cross them over your chest as you stare at the wall behind him, “I’m  _ sorry _ .” He says sincerely - earnestly - as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “There was too much between us for me to have left you that way.”

You push off of his lap angrily, pulling your outfit back up over your chest, “There wasn’t shit between us apparently.” You snap back, tying the belt at your hip angrily, “You can leave now.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t make me call security.”

He scoffs at the notion, “Like I won’t put them right through the fucking wall. Talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Rogers. You left, that’s it. It’s over.” You growl, “I know what I am, and I know what you are.”

He squints his eyes at you, shaking his head, “What does that mean?”

You laugh, tossing your head over your shoulder as you move back toward the thick curtain. You spin around on your heel to face him, “Go back to Peggy. Or, is she dead by now? You know,  _ again _ .”

He takes a deep breath as his jaws tighten, “There’s no need to be nasty.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“I fucking told you,” He shouts, standing from his spot on the couch, “I thought about you every day. Every single fucking day.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” You shout back, “That you  _ thought _ about me while you went and lived out your whole life with her? I was there for you when no one else was. You used me to drown your sorrows, not her.”

He drops his head, “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t have to understand,” You spit angrily, your voice full of venom, “You made your choice. Don’t come back here, a hundred fucking years later to now try and eat your cake.”

He places his hands on his hips and closes his eyes, unaware of what to say, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

It comes out in a whisper, so low that you barely catch all of the words, “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

He snaps his eyes to yours, his lips parting as your words wash over him, filling him with even more regret. You turn and move out of the room before he can see the tears slip down your cheek. You move back to the bar and snap your fingers to grab the bartender's attention. He slides you another stiff drink and you gulp it down without a second thought before slamming the shot glass on the bar. You ask for another, cutting your eyes toward room two as Steve steps out, pulling his old Yankees cap back down over his eyes.   


You two link eyes quickly, reading each other like there is no one else in the club but the two of you. He doesn’t want to do any more damage. You’ve made it plenty clear. He’s hurt you. He drops his head and moves past you without even the slightest acknowledgement. You watch him move through the crowd of people, before he disappears through the front door. You throw your head back, swallowing the dark liquid before you close your eyes to push the intrusive thoughts away.   


_ Focus. You need to focus. Don’t think about him.   
_

“Candy!”

You sigh loudly, expelling a breath before turning back toward your insufferable manager, “Johnny?”

“You done already? Homie paid for the night.”

You shrug, “Ended early. Where do you need me?”

“You look like you need a break?” He half asks, half states as he raises his eyebrows slightly.

You shake your head, “I’m good.” You lie, tossing your hair over your shoulder, “Get me another private dance.”

“Room 4. I’ll send him in.”

You smile quickly as you saunter past him, swinging your hips and wiggling your fingers toward other clients as you move through them. Your mind races, flashes and fragments of you and Steve’s five year  _ whatever  _ it was, plays out in front of you. You push through the curtain and roll your head on your neck before stretching out your shoulders.   


_ It was nothing. You were nothing. _

_ Just focus on the money. It’s always about the money.   
_

You step up on the the round stage and grab onto the pole, spinning around it slowly as a tall man walks through the curtains. You smile seductively as your heels click against the stage as you move, “Hi,” You coo sweetly, tilting your head as he moves to the couch, “I’m Candy. What’s your name?”


	2. Chapter 2

You hold out your hand and wiggle your fingers as a smile creeps onto your face. Johnny shoots his eyes up toward yours and rolls them playfully, before slamming a stack of cash into your hand. You start counting your intake as he leans back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs as he watches you.

“You don’t trust me?”

“Of course not.” You say curtly, keeping your eyes on the green paper as it shifts between your hands.

He chuckles and so do you as you finish counting. You’ve cleared your rent for the month and then some, and it’s only Friday. Tomorrow’s shift will be for those Louboutin's you’ve been eyeing. You shove your nights pay into your purse and wink at him, before turning on your heel and exiting the office. You say your goodbyes to a few of the girls before pushing out into the parking lot.   


You tap the key fob in your hand, bringing your white Audi to life in the back of the parking lot. It hums quietly and unlocks as soon as your close, the lights on the door handles illuminating softly. You sink into the seat as the radio pops on, auto connecting to your phone as soon as you close the door. Within minutes, you’re on the highway, weaving in and out of traffic on your way home. This is why you love Atlanta. It’s two AM and the night is just beginning for most.   


You pull into The Bishop apartments and navigate through the parking lot until you find a space closest to your door. You yawn as you move through the parking lot and up the stairs, stopping once you reach your door to pull off your heels. You slide your key into the door but pause as you realize it’s already unlocked. You lean into the door, pressing your ear against it, picking up the faint sounds of music.   


_ He still has your key. _

You close your eyes and let out a breath as you drop your head back on your shoulders. You’re not in the mood to fight. You can’t call the cops, he’ll just toss them around like rag dolls if they get squirrelly with him. Maybe if you just let him talk, he’ll get the guilt out of his system and he’ll fuck off back to New York with his  _ wife _ .   


You wrap your hand around the door handle and push into your open living room. You close the door softly behind you as Frank Sinatra flows from the Echo dot in your kitchen. It’s dark, only the light from the moon splashing in through the windows, covering your furniture. The french doors to the balcony reaching off of the living room are open, the soft, warm night breeze shuffles the long, white curtains that hang in front of them.   


You move further inside and toss your purse on your cream colored couch as your finally lay eyes on him. He leans against the railing, his hands gripping the black cast iron as he rests his weight on it. A half empty beer sits on the small table in the corner of the balcony. He was never much of a drinker. What was the point? He couldn’t feel it anyway. You stare at his back, opening your mouth to speak, but close it quickly. You know his instincts have already told him that you’re there.

He hear him inhale deeply and push it out through his nostrils as he tilts his head up toward the sky, “I’ve always loved Atlanta.” He says slowly, “It’s quiet here.” You cross your hands over your chest, dragging your eyes along his back, “You don’t get skies like this in Brooklyn.”

“Is there a reason that you still have my key?” You ask bluntly, “I’m sure your wife wouldn’t like that.”

He drops his head, but doesn’t turn around, “I came and saw you, you know.”

You roll your eyes and take a breath, sucking on your teeth as you squint at him, “What are you talking about?”

“You still exist in that timeline. I was curious, about ten years ago, and I came back and I saw you.” His words fade away as he tilts his head back up to the moon, “I shouldn’t have.”

“Why’s that?” You ask quietly as anger and sadness brim in your eyes.

He turns to face you. He smiles but it’s sad, “Because I kept coming back. I meant what I said. I thought about you every single day for sixty years.”

You turn from him as emotion suddenly fills your chest and eyes. You blink furiously as your lips and chin quiver, staring into your kitchen all the while. You’d seen him. The old man that sat in the corner of the club until you came onto the stage. Then, and only then, would he move closer - but not close enough for you to recognize him.   


“You were so beautiful.” He says, “You have always been the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Then why did you leave?” You spit angrily, spinning around to face him. Your face is wet with tears as they roll down your cheeks, smearing your makeup, “If I’m so beautiful, and you thought about me for so long, then why did you leave me?”

“I had to.”

You laugh as you turn toward your front door, closing your eyes, “Get out. I don’t want to hear this.”

“Listen to me,” He says, his voice trembling, “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to understand!” You shout, “Get. out.”

He moves into the living room but keeps his distance from you, “I woke up to a world that had forgotten me. I woke up to a world that I didn’t understand. Do you know what that feels like?” He hisses, causing you to cut your eyes toward his.   


They’re cloudy, full of so many emotions that you wouldn’t be able to decipher them if you had to. They’re watery as his own tears threaten to spill onto his smooth skin, “Cell phones, automatic cars, all of the noise, it was -” He stops, dropping his eyes to the floor, “She was all I knew. She was the only thing that made me real. When I found out she was still alive, it all flooded back. She kept me going until she died, and I lost her all over again and I felt like I died, all over again.”

You focus on your breathing as the two of you stand within feet of each other, you facing the door, him facing you, “That’s touching.” You whisper angrily.

“Will you just stop and listen to me, goddamn it!” He snaps, “I lost. Everything that I believe in, everything that I’ve fought for, I lost it all when Thanos snapped his fingers. I  _ lost _ .” He says forcefully, his chest heaving, “I don’t lose.”

“I don’t care.” You snap back.

He covers the ground separating the two of you quickly, grabbing your arm to whirl you around, “And then I met you. And suddenly, my days had meaning again.” You do everything you can to keep from looking in his eyes as you whimper, “You mean the world to me. What can I do to prove that to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe not throw five years down the drain.”

He nods slowly, “I was wrong, I’ll admit that until I’m blue in the face, but you don’t understand. When I found out that I could have a chance at a normal life, I jumped. I didn’t think, I just took it, because that’s what I thought I wanted. Peggy and I had a date that I never made it to.”

“Yeah,” You smile angrily, “Bucky told me all about it.” You finally settle your eyes on his, letting them bounce back and forth between his, “We used to dance too.” You whisper.   


He drops his eyes from yours in shame. You stare past his shoulder and out into the night sky as Frank Sinatra fades into Nat King Cole. You gasp as Unforgettable starts to play, instantly flooding you with old, fragmented memories. Steve spinning your around in your kitchen on late Saturday nights, your laughter filling every square foot of your apartment. You held onto him as he pressed his cheek to your forehead, your giggles subsiding as the silliness faded away.

You and Steve would lose the night to the early sunlight as you slow danced. He’d lay you down in your soft bed as the gentle morning sun flooded into your room. He’d make love to you all morning long, invading every inch of your mind, your body, your soul. His fingers would caress your skin, his lips and teeth nipping and biting at you as he fucked you slow and deep. He whispered his love for you as you came. He held you until you fell asleep, rubbing slow, light circles into the small of your back...

You woke up to a knock one day; a long haired man standing at your doorstep, “I’m Bucky. Steve asked me come.”

You snap back to the present as Steve lifts your chin with his finger. His eyes are red, his cheeks blotchy, “I came back for you, doll.” He whispers, “I couldn’t stand it, not one minute longer.” He takes a breath, “I found Bruce and told him to send me back… I told her that I couldn’t stay anymore. That I need you.”

He drops his forehead to yours, dragging his nose along yours, “I know you still love me, sugar.” He mumbles, “I know you do, and I love you baby. I’ve always loved you, every minute. I’m sorry,” He pleads, panicking slightly as he tries to convince you further, “I’m so sorry baby. I shouldn’t have left you.”

He crashes his lips to yours and you accept them greedily. You raise to your tiptoes as his lips massage yours and slide your hands around his back. He lifts you from your feet effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves through the living room and to your bedroom.   


He detaches his lips from yours to drop them to your neck, pushing your head up toward the ceiling as he nips at your sensitive skin. You squeeze his body to yours as you moan, your body igniting in flames as his warm lips caress your skin. You’ve taken lovers since he’s been gone, but none of them could satisfy you the way he does. Just the feeling of his lips on your body again is enough for you to want to risk everything you have.   


That’s why he’s dangerous.

After only one kiss, you want to give him  _ everything _ .   


He tosses you to the bed, watching as you bounce on the mattress. You keep your eyes on his as he stands at the foot of the bed, dragging his eyes along your body. You get shy quickly under his gaze. You pull at the hem of your baggy grey shirt and cross your legs, sliding them along one another. He sets his eyes back on yours as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor.   


You bite your bottom lip as your eyes skip down his broad chest and flat, sculpted stomach. You sit up on your knees and place your hands on his hips, dipping them into his jeans. You press your lips to the center of his chest and let your eyes close as you kiss his skin. You raise your hands to his back and squeeze his flesh as your lips move around his chest. He moans softly as he pops the button on his jeans and undoes his zipper.   


You watch as his jeans fall to his feet, leaving him in nothing but his black boxer briefs. You tilt your head up to his, your chin resting on his stomach as your fingers skim through his happy trail. You cup him in your hand as you blink up at him, your lips parting as he stares down at you. You run your fingers along his cock, massaging him as he hardens from your touch. His erection presses against the thin material as you grope him and return your lips to his warm skin.   


He grabs your hair, pulling it up into a ponytail with his hand as you kiss a hot trail down his abs and through the hair that collects at the base of his stomach. You bite his side, drawing a quick hiss from him as he flinches from the sting. He releases your hair and pushes your shoulders to make you fall back on the bed again.   


He pushes his knees into the edge of the mattress as he places his index finger on your bare ankle. He drags it, slowly, up your right leg, curling it around your calf and up your thigh until it stops at the apex between your legs. He palms you, heat radiating from you and warming his palm. He can feel the wetness slicking your pussy - your thin leggings sticking to your flesh. You gasp as you push your hips into his hand and push your head against the mattress, arching your back from it.   


He pushes his fingers against your clit through your leggings as you start to roll your hips. He climbs onto the bed to lean over you, his lips parting, his warm breath washing over your face. He leans down and kisses you hard, stealing the air right from your lungs. He pulls back with a smack, but his fingers don’t stop. He continues to tease you until you’re soaking -  _ aching -  _ for him.   


He pulls away for only seconds, just long enough to hook his fingers underneath your waistband to yank your pants and panties away from you in one fell swoop. He pushes his fingers into you as soon as you’re free of your clothing; the intrusion causing you to spring forward. You pull at your shirt, discarding it off the side of the bed before your fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra. Your breasts fall free as you toss it, and your pride, to the floor before you fall back to the mattress.   


He fucks you slowly with his fingers. He dips down to splatter kisses at the base of your neck and along your full breasts, nipping at your nipples with his lips. He cups your left breast with his free hand, kneading your flesh gently as he sweeps his thumb over your thick nipple. You gasp as his fingers curl inside of you to stroke your sweet spot. You cup his face in your hands and pull him down to you, moaning loudly as you slam your lips against his.   


“Steve, please.” You groan heavily, “Please baby.”

He withdraws his fingers from you as soon as the words leave your lips. You spread your legs as he settles between them, the tip of his cock brushing lightly against your sticky cunt. You sink into the mattress as his heavy body flattens on top of yours. You’ve missed this so  _ fucking _ much; his heavy body nearly crushing yours. You wrap your long legs around his waist and flatten your palms on his back as he presses his cock against your opening.   


He slides through your folds, teasing your clit before he pushes inside of you. You gasp, your eyes slamming shut as you raise up from the mattress, pushing your chest into his. Your pussy spreads for him as he occupies your warmth, stretching you in the most  _ familiar  _ way. You take him all, every glorious inch of him until his hips are flush against yours. He doesn’t move right away. He just lays there, his breath heavy and warm on your face, his eyes closed, those long, dark eyelashes splashed against his cheeks.   


He’s missed you too.   


You drag your hands down his muscular back and push your hips into his, encouraging him. _ I’m right here. _ He cups your face in his large hands, his fingers digging into the edges of your hair. He pulls his hips from yours - agonizingly slow - withdrawing from you completely. He pushes back into you immediately and releases a ragged breath, followed by a low, guttural moan.

“Fuck,” He mutters to himself, releasing another breath before inhaling sharply, “Feels so good.”

His words are slurred and jumbled as his hips start to move faster. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine as it splashes along your skin. You dig your fingernails into his skin as he fucks you deep and slow. Just like before.

Tears start to well in your eyes, blurring your vision. You didn’t think you’d be here again, with him, feeling so full and loved and vulnerable and  _ free _ . You almost don’t want to be here, no matter how much you missed him, no matter how many nights you cried for him.  _ This _ is what destroyed you. Moments like this, these  _ feelings  _ for him. You swore you wouldn’t do this again, and you meant it.   


You cover your face with your hands as the emotion starts to take over. He grabs your fingers, trying to pry them away but you hold them there, not wanting him to see you completely break. It’s useless. A sob breaks through, and you try to choke it back to no avail. Within seconds you’re a mess, crying hard and unabated.   


Steve pries at your hands again, this time pulling them from your wet face. His eyes search around your face as he takes stock of the damage he’s caused. There’s nothing to say. There’s no words he can construct that will ever take this away. You were collateral damage in his quest to try and find a life, a home, a purpose other than punching and kicking and fighting and killing. You were ruined because of him. He sees that now.

He can’t take it away, but he can help push it down, deep down inside, if only for a moment. He pulls out of you and tucks his hand underneath your back to lift you from the bed. He flips you onto all fours and flattens his hand on the small of your back ad slides his hand up the length of your spine. He pushes down on your back, positioning you to where your head and chest rests on the mattress.   


You lunge forward as he fills you with his cock again. You grunt as he starts a punishing pace, squeezing your ass in his hands. He just wants to make you feel something other than pain. You ball the white sheets in your hands as your lunge forward with his thrusts. The tears quickly subside as your orgasm starts to build in the pit of your stomach. His slips his fingers between your sticky, wet folds and massages your throbbing clit, sending flashes of electricity through your body.   


His skin slaps against yours as you start to fill the room with high pitched moans and unintelligible words. You slam your eyes closed, your wet lashes splaying against your cheeks as he fucks you senseless. His fingers are relentless against your clit, his cock stroking your G-spot, teasing that sweet, long awaited release. Your walls quiver, tightening around him and then releasing him as he pushes you closer and closer to an explosion.   


He pulls his fingers from your clit and pushes them through your asscheeks. He circles your puckered hole with his index finger before he pushes inside. You grunt loudly at the new intrusion, clenching your pussy around his cock in approval. He adds another digit and you inhale sharply, the fullness almost becoming unbearable.

Just when you don’t think you can take anymore - his pounding hips, his devilish fingers pumping and circling your insides - you cum. Hard, fast, deep. You cry out as you reach for your clit, rubbing furiously as it contracts and jumps up and down from your orgasm. Steve’s moans grow louder with yours as he trips over the edge of bliss with you. Soon, your insides are coated with his seed, spurting relentlessly from his slit as he slams into you with every ounce of strength he has in him.   


You bury your head into the sheets as your release consumes you entirely. It feels like forever. It’s sweet and palpable. It’s sad and refreshing. It’s everything you needed tonight. It’s a culmination of everything you’ve thought and felt and wanted and hated since he’s been gone. It feels right. It feels wrong. It brings happiness and fear. As your breathing steadies and Steve’s hips slow, the fog in your mind starts to clear. That’s when it clicks; that’s when you finally get it.   


You’re  _ feeling  _ again. You’ve been empty since he was gone; alone and angry. He had numbed you, made you cold to the world, and only now, in this moment of carnal connection between man and woman, do you know that he and only he could breathe the breath of life back into you. No matter if he’s there in the morning. No matter if he goes back to her. He’s freed you of him - the  _ old  _ him, the Steve that left you all those months ago.   


Hours pass. You roll over onto your side, scrunching up your face with the sun splashes onto you. You bring your hands to your face to rub your eyes, groaning loudly as you try and join the living. You drop your hand to the mattress and roll over onto your back, stretching out your arm to the other side of the bed. It’s empty, kind of how you expected it to be.   


You sit up and glance at the disheveled sheets beside you. You grab the pillow and bring it to your face to take a deep breath of him. He always smelled so good. You sigh, and drop the pillow before reaching for your phone. A slip of paper floats to the floor as you lift the sleek iPhone from the side table. You stare at it, not sure if you want to read his apology or just let the night before be what it was.   


You decide on the latter.   


An unfamiliar shadow on your nightstand catches the corner of your eye. You turn toward it, squinting at the rusted gold, circular object. You pick it up and look it over, feeling the heft in your hand. You use both hands to pop it open and lose our breath as you recognize what it is. Steve’s compass. But, there’s one stark difference.   


He’d replaced the picture of her, with a picture of you.   


You snap your head toward your bedroom door as you hear the front door push open. Steve appears seconds later, two coffees in his hands, a soft smile on his face, “Morning baby.”

You smile slowly.

The blip is  _ finally _ over.

It’s a new day.   
  



End file.
